


Let's Talk About It

by Kloue



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cheating, Crossdressing, F/M, Hate to Love, Heartbreak, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, YouTuber!Eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kloue/pseuds/Kloue
Summary: After unintentionally gaining over four million subscribers on YouTube, Eren Jaeger - aka jaegerspears - tries to find his place in life by continuing to give life advice on his channel. When he posts a new video for his series called 'Let's Talk About Sex', a peculiar comment stands out that awfully sounds like his sour ex-boyfriend.UNDER REVISION - WILL BE REPOSTED





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I created this story on a whim, mostly because I have never seen much Eren x Levi stories that have one of them being a youtuber. I've read only about two, and I thought the fandom could use another. Anyways, this story is inspired by many people: Jose Ayala, Jstlbby, PatrickStarr, Cardi B, Dopeisland, GoldJuice, DK4L, dozens of makeup gurus, and all other shit that happens on my Instagram. I'll be linking outfits and shit in the story, and videos that are similar to Eren's for a better visual. 
> 
> Also, I created a Tumblr inspired by one of the few youtuber!AU's I've read - 'Click On My Heart'. This author created a tumblr page to create a better visual of how Eren is depicted, and I have decided to as well. Link is in the last phrase of "Let's Talk About Sex".
> 
> But yeah. Tell me if you like it.

**Eren Jaeger**

_jaegerspears_

My appointment got canceled guys :(.

_5:07 PM - June 1, 2017_

* * *

I resist puffing out my bottom lip while rapidly typing on my phone. Clutching the obnoxious case tightly, I throw my phone onto my queen sized bed and glare at the baby blue eyes that looked up at me in return. "He said he's busy. He had a work emergency." I say with my fingers going up in quotations. My foot pushes down on my other to slip one of my [heels](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=235422638) off and I fall onto my bed face first. Groaning, I look up at my best friend - Armin Arlert - and pout childishly. "Why does no one love me?"

"Don't you have a video to edit? Do that instead." Armin announces. He swipes on his iPhone and bites his lip every few seconds and fiddles with his bubblegum pink lip ring. I place my chin on the palm of my hand and grab my phone that was hidden underneath Armin's leg. "You haven't posted in three days. People are going to get angry." He lingers on the last word and smirks at me, making sure to show off the smiley piercing in the upper crevice of his lip. I roll my eyes and look at my Twitter, noticing the amount of retweets, likes, and comments asking 'what appointment' flooding in. I sigh once again.

"I should do a video on this. Trisha Paytas that shit." I wipe my eyebrow and look at more comments coming in. I eventually twirl on my back and reply to one that left me with a giggle. Armin, who I notice just liked my tweet, laughs too and puts his arm over his head."God, aren't we such gossip girls?" I say sarcastically. I pop my mouth and leave my jaw hanging as I roll over and look at him. "Huh, Deddy?"

"Ew, don't call me that. And we already look like ones." We both laugh at the thought and realize that, in fact, our styles are vastly different from others. We grew up together, so it isn't a surprise that we adapted the same way of fashion - even though it is rather odd and tacky. We often wear styles of bright color and are more attracted to women's clothing than men's, but only because women have more interesting clothes. Though we don't wear dresses and skirts (often), Armin enjoys crop tops and rose patterns more than I do. I've been told I like to wear heels and makeup more than him. We are somewhat like a fuse between man and woman clothing, because we sometimes like to have a stubble that we'll dye pink and everyone just wants us to pick a side - but we like to pick both to piss everyone off.

Today, Armin decided to wear a [green](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=235422299) floral button-up crop top, that revealed his toned and flat stomach I was everlastingly jealous of, old Levi jeans with imprinted roses, a pair of my beige heels that I forced him to wear, dark burgundy lipstick, and his signature round sunglasses. His last piece of the outfit was sitting on my night stand - a jean cap with a crown drawn in the front. Overall, he looks fantastic - and I'm pissed off he didn't get to show it off tonight because my appointment was canceled.

"I guess we won't for long." I tell Armin with evident disappointment. "Since we can't even fucking go anymore." I slip off my light blue jacket and throw it onto my carpeted bedroom floor. Sighing, I begin to take off my other yellow heel. Armin sits up on the bed and grabs his cap. Placing it on his perfectly trimmed hair, he struts over to me on the other side of the bed and scowls.

"Lets go eat somewhere then. I don't want to be stuck in your condo full of a collection of heels and horror games." He voices to me. I look at him innocently and begin to put my heels back on quickly with a smile. Armin smiles back and grabs his book bag next to him. As I get ready once again, I gaze at Armin in thought.

"Speaking on horror games, I just ordered Outlast 2 because a lot of people want to watch me play it." I begin."- but I watched a preview of it and I'm pretty sure I ruined my daisy dukes from pissing in them."

"Gross. The ones you did yourself?"

"Yeah.  _Yeah_. Now that I think of it, aren't those yours?"

"We practically wear the same underwear, so I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter." Armin shrugs and grabs his keys from his back pocket. Jiggling them effortlessly, he grins and walks to the door. "Vintage Tits we go." I resist the urge to giggle at the thought of getting drunk and eating cheeseburgers to forget how awful my night is going so far.

* * *

  **Eren Jaeger**

_jaegerspears_

Update, Deddy is buyin' me food and ordering me margaritas. He knows me to my red bottoms. :P

_5:34 PM - June 1, 2017_

* * *

 "Jean has been an asshole lately." My eyebrows raise at Armin's next words. I halt in basically drowning myself in my fruity margarita and set my overly wide glass down. Wiping the salt the hid in the corner of my lips, I scrunch up my eyebrows and grab a mozzarella stick from the plate in the middle of the table. We currently sat at one of our favorite restaurants,  _Vintage Bits_ , which we like to nickname Vintage Tits because of personal reasons. It is one of the places that has nice waitresses with a clean table. It is also a place that actually served us instead of looking at us weirdly. I dip my fried cheese stick into some sauce and look at my best friend.

"What do you mean? Like obsessive asshole or sexless asshole?" I ask innocently. Armin fiddles with a napkin and takes occasional sips of his coke. Scowling, he grabs a piece of mozzarella stick as well and begins to eat it.

"More like both." He starts. "He's really getting on my nerves because he keeps telling me I can't wear this or that. Then when I don't, he doesn't want to play anymore." He puts quotations around 'play' in his voice. I nod my head and continue listening. "This morning when I came here, he told me not to go with you on your appointment because he thinks you're irresponsible. So I ended up putting laxatives in his coffee and shit, because I don't like when he talks shit about you -" He pauses for a second and chuckles. "No pun intended, but yeah." I laugh almost too loudly.

"Laxatives? Really?" I chuckle out. I knew Jean didn't like me that much anymore even though we grew up together too. We use to be best friends until he realized I liked to dress up in booty shorts and heels. Turns out he liked crop tops and roses better because he ultimately started dating Armin years later.

"Not a lot anyways. Just enough so he can maybe toot, sleep, and leave me the hell alone for the night." As Armin says this, our waiter comes over with our meals in his hands. He places them down in front of us, making me move my phone that I realize is ringing with notifications, and tells us he hopes we enjoy our meal. As Armin begins to dig in, I check my phone.

* * *

 

**Mikasa Ackerman**

_ackermankardashian_

so sick of you guys leavin' me out. I was just down there you whores.

_5:45 PM - June 1, 2017_

* * *

 

"Mikasa was here." I chuckle out. Armin looks at me in interest, so I show him the comment Mikasa posted on my tweet. He laughs and grabs his phone next to him. Looking at me, he smirks and starts typing on his phone.

* * *

 

**Armin Arlert**

_arlerthilton_

get down here Kim girl! we got the drinks!

_5:47 PM - June 1, 2017_

* * *

 Giggling like hyenas, we wait for our third member to arrive. I cut a piece of my cheese burger and put it on a small plate from our appetizers for Mikasa, making sure to include some bits of my fries and my salad that I didn't eat. As we wait, me and Armin chat about ways to get Jean to stop being an asshole and, eventually, my channel. I try not to seem frustrated as I wipe my fingers on a napkin.

"I don't really have any good ideas to post anymore." I rub my mouth on the napkin and sigh slightly. I pick up a french fire and nibble on it. "Like, I've talked about almost everything in life. I've given so much advice and everyone who has a computer fuckin' knows me better than myself." I lick my lips. "I guess I could do some more answering comments, but those take a long time to find and film." I look at Armin for a response, but he doesn't answer back. He looks hesitant as he sips his coke suspiciously. I raise an eyebrow and cock my head. "What?"

"Well..." Armin lingers on the word. He finally looks at me and grins a bit. "I think you have plenty of more things to talk about, but you just  _don't_  want to." I wiggle my head at him to continue.

"Like what?"

"You have never done -" He takes a deep breath as he starts to name content. "- a my first time video, a masturbation video, a position video, a healthy relationship video, but I don't think you've ever done a _relationship_  video." I look at him like he is crazy, but Armin only shrugs his shoulders and cocks his head."You have to appeal to all audiences. You've also never done a break up video."

"Yeah," I scoff dryly, "Lets talk about how I've been though almost thirteen relationships because I'm an inconsiderate asshole, apparently." I try not to seem as angered as I was, so I make a hum of approval and nod my head."But you're right. I've never even thought of doing those. Don't you think those'll be kind of embarrassing though?"

"You literally have a video called 'Bootyhole Poking'. I'm sure you've embarrassed yourself enough."

"Hey, you have to have pull them in." I point to Armin with my finger. "If I called it 'How To Have Anal' no one would have clicked it. Wait -" I pause and look at the roof in thought. "- maybe they would have? Damn!"

"You guys are like really loud by the way." I snap out of my thoughts and see Mikasa walking up to us with her purse and jacket in hand. She wears black jeans, a silk brown off-the-shoulder blouse, and mini-heels. She flutters her hand at me and tells me to move over, which I was already doing, and sits down at the edge of the booth we were at. I push a plate over to her and lean onto the table. She thanks me and grabs a fork and knife to eat her burger like a rich white girl. "And if you would have named it that, no one would have probably clicked it. If they did, it would have been more weird than helpful. Being subtle was the key." She tells me. I nod my head back and forth in understanding.

"I was just telling Eren," Armin starts. He looks at me now confidently." - that he should start doing more personal videos. Like maybe a break up video." Mikasa's eyes widen at the thought. She turns her head to gaze at me and covers her mouth to talk to me with her mouth slightly full of the food I saved for her.

"That would actually be a good video. No offence Eren, but you've been through some fucked up break-ups." Mikasa announces. She takes a sip of Armin's coke and shrugs her shoulders. "I mean, if you've ever heard of a relationship ending on a rollarcoaster at Six Flags, then we need to talk more." I roll my eyes and take the coke away from her in irritation.

"Yeah, well he was a pussy who was scared of heights. He didn't deserve me anyways." I down the rest of the soda and push my short, silky brown hair out of my face. Rubbing my lips together, I fiddle with the salt at the end of the table and murmur. "And I have a lot of personal videos. Just not about my fucked up love life."

"All things considered, maybe some good can come out of it."Armin tells me with a small smile. He licks his teeth from any lipstick and leans closer to me over the table. "Like more subscribers, more views, or maybe - an  _understanding guy_."

"Please. Half of my base is female, and you know my ass is too plump for that."

"Or it could help to get it off your chest. Hell, you've never even talked to me about half of your break-ups. You have to get it out sometime." His bright blue eyes hue a bit, and he looks at me with concern. I can see Mikasa giving me the same look out the corner of my eye. Sighing softly, I cross my arms and lean in the booth. I think for a while before opening my stubborn and big, but pretty, mouth.

"Can we go get our nails done tomorrow? I'm getting sick of these nubs."I try my best to ignore the dejected look on Armin and Mikasa's faces. I gaze down at my chipping green nails longingly, remembering how many people have held it when it wasn't its original look. I push down the frustration bubbling and pop the bubble of memories floating to my head. I grab my wallet from the back of my pants and put a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. "I'm gonna go to Target. I'll see you later." Not able to look up at Mikasa's face as she got up to let me go, I strut out of the restaurant and hope that Target had some cute lipstick colors available to get my thoughts together.

* * *

**Alyssa Morgan**

_themythicalbabe2_

Sex toy haul? I've been looking for some that aren't sponsored. :\

_7:02 PM - June 1, 2017_

* * *

 I chuckle to myself as I look at the cutest soft nude in the makeup aisle. I press to comment on the post and place the lipstick into my red basket. My heels click as I wonder through the bright white corridor full of mirrors and cheap brands. I bite my lips and let my fingers fly for the words I wish to say to my fans face to face, but never have the opportunity to.

* * *

 

**Eren Jaeger**

_jaegerspears_

i heard there is a new tongue vibrator. Don't worry, I'll be checking it out. ;)

_7:05 PM - June 1, 2017_

* * *

 I slide my phone into my pocket and don't even try to take the grin off my face. A sex toy haul?  _God_ , that should be fun. I practically skip away from the aisle and toward the clothing area of Target. As I do, I ignore the glares and stares I got from people. It wasn't anything new, of course. Once I make it into the clothing area, I immediately pick up a red and green striped crop top, a bomber jacket, and a cute pair of socks that were out of place but nevertheless cute as hell.

My phones rings the minute I hear a deep husky tone from the further end of the clothing aisle. Peeking through the clothing rackets toward the changing rooms, I see an overly tall man holding a beautiful deep yellow dress. He holds it from the hanger and stares at the employee in concern. Taking tiny steps forward to snoop, I find a cute top and search for my size while listening.

"Do you have this dress in a medium? I only found extra larges and a small." He asks nicely. The employee then goes on to explain to him that if it had been alone on the racket, it probably had been the only one left. I scrunch my eyebrows up as he talks almost too familiarly. Soon enough, I don't even recognize the sizes when I see the same yellow dress in a racket in front of me in, ironically, a size medium. I slowly walk over to it and hook it off. Turning around, I make myself known to the man who somehow brought painful memories to my head.

"Here is a medium." He turns around, and all my confirmations are correct. His deep, brown eyes widen when he sees me. I shuffle uncomfortably and push it into his hands. He grabs it and looks down, his wavy blonde hair fluttering about and curling into his face. I force a small smile and nod my head.  _Breathe, Eren, Breathe_. "It was out of place. That happens a lot here." He gives back a smirk before it falls. He gapes at me and soon opens his mouth to reveal a voice I know all to well.

"Thank you." He clutches the dress and folds it slowly. I nod my head and begin to leave, but he stops me as he steps up and holds out his hand. "Wait -" I do as I'm told. I peer back at him and raise an eyebrow."You look _different_. How have you been?" He asks me. Concern in his face shows all to well, and I feel my heart shriveling up and burning out. I tuck my hands into my jacket and turn around to face him.

"I've been okay. You?" I try my best to make it not seem like I wanted to run away and hide, but that was exactly what I wanted to do. I fiddle with my fingers and wander my eyes down to the glimmering floor. He laughs slightly and scratches the back of his head.

"Great, actually. I'm getting married soon." I wiggle on my feet and fake a smile.

"Really? Congratulations! I'm sure she'll love the dress."I point to it subtly. He shrugs his shoulders and sighs out a laugh.

"Well, she's a guy, so..."

"Oh, sorry. My mistake." Awkward silence follows. I scratch the back of my ear and back up slowly. "Well, I have to go. It was nice seeing you." He nods in understanding and blinks a couple of times out of proportion. As I leave, I hear his voice echo.

"See you, Eren."I take a glimpse behind me and wave as happily as I could to show him I was doing fine. Things were going well. Life got better. I'm okay.

"See you, Mike!"

* * *

The minute I get home, I notice that all the lights are off and that it is completely quiet. Armin probably went to sleep early, so I head to my room that is across from his and close the door. I lock it and sigh slightly. My breathing becomes layered and quieter as I take bigger breaths. I immediately take of my heels and throw them across the room. I take my jacket off and leave it on the floor, along with my shirt and pants. I flop in my bed and welcome the warmth of my soft pillows and comfy blanket.

All I can hear is the sound of crickets outside my window, whining in unison. I gaze up at my ceiling and lick my dry lips.

Who would of thought that out of all places in the world, I would meet him again. I'm pretty sure I moved away from that life years ago. If he still had connections, then there would be not doubt that he was causing trouble again. I groan and hope to God that I don't see the dirty-blonde once again. I wiggle in my bed and fight a pout when I see that my fan was turned off. Rising up slowly, I reach for the light and click it twice.

_"You have to get it out sometime."_

Armin's sad face plagued me ever since I left the restaurant. I know it kills him that I always keep my mouth glued shut from telling him anything that bothered me. I wipe my face down from my cheeks and sigh softly. Across from my room sat my camera on a vibrant pink stand. It faced the wall where I had my white wall and a comfy furry white chair propped up. I gaze at the place where I film the majority of the time, taking in the big boxes full of notebooks of ideas and sex toys for the haul I was suppose to film tomorrow. I glare at the area without blinking until my eyes watered before finally deciding to get up.

I put on an old [Thrasher ](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=235422765)hoodie that I stole from Jean when we were friends, and apply the new nude lipstick that I bought today. I don't bother with pants since I never wear them anyways. I compliment myself in the mirror a thousand times before heading over to the chair in front of the camera. Groaning to myself and telling myself to just go away from the lens, go back to sleep, don't you even dare think of letting anyone know - didn't help my confidence at all. But of course, I am fiercely opposite.

So I smile and click the button on the upper corner of my camera.

"Hey guys! It's Eren! And today on [Let's Talk About Sex](https://erenstylesup.tumblr.com/), we will be talking about a topic that _finally_  has nothing to do with it."


	2. Blue Mockingbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory into Eren's college life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eren's tumblr: erenstylesup  
> levi's tumblr: *will be up soon

"Eren! Eren, I know you can hear me! I'm literally the loudest person you know!"

Slowly taking my headphones out my ear, I flip my hair out my face and turn around to see a college  _friend,_  Connie, yelling for me in the middle of the college campus. Tangerine autumn trees slung around the large sidewalk, high-fiving each other as leaves splattered onto the ground. Connie smiles and waves like I was his long lost friend. He strolls up to me with books tucked under his arm and his infamous colored bow tie,  _blue_  today, around his neck. Signing a salute, he laughs and places a hand on his hip. "I know you heard me. What're you listening to? It can't be louder than me." I try not to roll my eyes. I  _occasionally_  can deal with Connie, but only when he isn't a petty, fake, back-stabbing baldy.

"Rap." I answer simply. I turn back around and begin to walk down the sidewalk. Blue pokes throughout the sky with small fluffy clouds, and when I stare forward, I notice common blue mockingbirds fluttering through bushes. I pause a second, staring at the creature before Connie's voice catches my attention once more. My literature class is starting in ten minutes, and if I knew Connie, he wants to talk longer than that. Connie catches up to me and eventually ahead. He walks backwards and continues to blabber.

"Rap? You don't seem like the type."

"I also don't seem like the type to wear pink heels and makeup, but I'm pretty sure we've established my oddness enough."

"Right." Connie fixes the heavy backpack with his free arm and itches his shaven head. "Anyways, Sasha asked about you at lunch today. She wanted to know if you're okay? You haven't been in class much."

I try not to raise my fist and threaten him. Really? Why I wasn't in class? I stop walking immediately and glare at him.  _Fucking baldy_. He looks back, as innocently as he could. With a sigh, I respond as respectfully as possible. "I've been busy." He finally saw my glare once the words were growled out.

"Woah there. I'm just asking, dude. She's my girl and I want to make her happ -"

"Connie!" I stiffen slightly at the sound behind me. I hear multiple steps, but I don't turn around. Connie's gray eyes widen and I could basically see sweat pouring from his forehead. I begin to walk again, trying to ignore the smell of smoke and horrible cologne behind me, and try to be confident. "Hey, what're you doin' with this  _fag_? Thought you had to head back to the hall?" I don't even flinch at the insult anymore. Though thorns prick me all around, I lift my head and try to ignore him. Hell, the word had been thrown around so much between straight people and gay people that it practically lost it's meaning to me now.

Well, I like to believe that sometimes.

I roll my eyes and plug my headphones back in. Connie scatters off around me and responds, but I don't bother to listen. Before I could walk off, I feel a hand on my shoulder pull.

"Ay, you don't hear me talking to you?" I glare at the man's amber eyes. I shrug off his hand and turn around. I am itched with the view of his little crew, consisting of three other guys who have nothing better to do. "Hey -"

" _God_ , I hear you, Jean. I understand you have an underlying love for me - but it's getting a little fucking old." Immediately, his face turns a crimson red just like the color of the cardinals that travel campus sometimes. He clenches his fists. I push a brown lock out of my face and sigh obnoxiously. "I think you forget this isn't high school. You can't just beat me up on a college campus. It actually matters now."

"Whatever, Jaeger. Just keep fucking walking, you  _pansy_  ass."

I roll my eyes and strut away. I know I would probably get payback later in the form of vengeful fists, but there is no point in living fearfully much anymore. It seems like no matter how I feel - I always get the same result.

Yet, I make sure to walk quickly and away from the group, just in case Jean decided to change his mind and come carry out what he sought in the first place. It isn't the first time.

When I finally reach my literature class, I am welcome to the fact that someone is sitting in my seat. I usually don't put much emphasis into where I sit in these type of classes, but I can't help but be aggravated because I didn't feel like having the trouble today. Luckily, the seat next to him is free, so I hurriedly walk to sit next to him. I try not to slam my handbag onto the table from the stress already building up in me. Rolling up to the desk, I bring out my indigo notebook, yellow markers, pink eraser, and an orange pencil. I place my bag on the floor and sit quietly at the table until the rest of the class floods in.

The guy next to me seems just as bored as I am. His small laptop is blank on the screen, showing he has here been a while, and the paper he did have is riddled with doodles. I try not to peek at what he'd drawn, but I can't help that they were out for viewing. I notice the face of a cartoon character that I didn't recognize and flooded drawings of eyes - a typical artist doodle. I chuckle to myself and place my chin onto my palm in thought. After about three more minutes of chattering among the students, the professor walks in noticeably.

"Good morning." He buffs out exasperatedly. I respond to him in usual unison with everyone else. He begins to write on the board with chalk the agenda for today and, of course, his name - which is very difficult to pronounce. I lean back in my chair and don't even bother to read the agenda he is writing. I assume we would be reading an excerpt and analyzing it, as usual. "As you can see, we will be working with our textbooks today."

My eyes widen immediately and my jaw drops.  _Oh fuck_. I look around in the class and see multiple students having the hardback book on their desk, making me feel like the total odd one out. I swallow the lump in my throat and watch as the professor continues the lesson. He asks for us to turn to page one-hundred-eight and annotate our thoughts on a sheet of paper. My eyes then begin to search the vicinity, and I soon see the guy next to me opening his text book. I open my mouth, close it, and open it again. I despise sharing books with others, but this is inevitable. "Excuse me?"

He turns his head to face me. I notice his eyes are such a deep blue, like the mockingbirds, that it almost looked black if you didn't look close enough. His hair falls onto separate sides of his face, lusciously moving with no stiffness or tangles. His hair routine must have been perfect because I wish my hair would flow like his just did. Shit looked like waterfalls. I shake my head out of my thoughts and point to his book innocently. "Do you think it would be okay if we shared a textbook? I forgot mine in my dorm." He doesn't answer me at first. He only scrutinizes me a bit before finally pushing the book into the middle of our desks. I could feel my heart fluttering in happiness.

"Sure." - is all he says. His voice is deep and simple. It isn't too baritone that it caused a damn earthquake, but it isn't high enough to break wine glasses. I smile and push my chair closer to him. Trying not to invade his personal space too much, I learn over and start to read the excerpt we are given. The guy next to me only looks down at the book slightly, his breathing leveled and soft. With an awkward cough, I grin up at him.

"Um, thanks." He pushes the page that was flying up in the textbook down and nods his head. He doesn't answer. I take that he doesn't like communicating, so I only look down at the reading.

Soon enough, minutes pass by before I'm done annotating on my paper. I lift my hand to turn the page, but I'm stopped when I feel my skin touching another. I look up quickly from writing and see his hand reaching for the page as well. I almost want to barf. What the fuck was this? A Pixar movie? I gaze up at him a bit to see his reaction, but he doesn't react much. He just turns to page and draws a line on his paper. I just soon look down again, and read along.

Oddly enough, sharing his textbook wasn't that bad. I usually have issues when people come up to ask me because they either read too slow or too fast. Some have actually written in my book by accident, which without a doubt made me crazy considering I paid a lot of money for the pieces of junk. But when this guy with the perfect hair routine, we seemed to be in _sync_. Whenever I was done, he'd reach and turn the page - finishing at the exact same time. Though his notes were nicer than mine, we annotated the same way too. With each paragraph, which were long as hell, we would write down our thoughts and draw a line to separate. The difference was that I riddled my notes with highlights and different colored gel pens, where he preferred writing in a deep black ink.

"Twenty-minutes remaining." The professor announced from the back of his desk. I groaned at that, realizing that there was much more ahead than we thought. I look at my partner for a brief second before whispering.

"Sorry it's taking so long. I didn't know he was doing this today." I awkwardly laugh and make sure I'm not breathing like a horse on him. He doesn't look at me for a second before flipping pages at the corner, his thumb pausing very few seconds.

"It's okay." He says it so softly that I can barely hear him. So, we continue to read together for the next twenty minutes, and I solemnly scoot back to my part of the table afterwards with a small thank you. He only pushes his book back in front of him and gazes at the projector that then turned on. As the professor goes over the excerpt as a class, I almost fall asleep until the lights turn back on and all I can hear is talking and rustling feet.

I lift my head from my almost slumber and grab my bag off the floor slowly. People walk out of the large class room so loudly that it vibrates off the wall and booms into my ears. I jump out of my chair and stretch. As I do, I notice the guy next to me is already gone, leaving his pages of annotations. I grab the corners of the paper and look at it. Doodles ruined the perfect notes, but I can't help but be surprised at the drawing of a dog, or the outline of our professors face sleeping in the lower corner of the paper. I chuckle and keep the notes, thinking of maybe using it as a conversation starter the next time we meet.

* * *

I walk to my dorm with a _red_  bloody lip and a red bleeding nose. Normal, of course. People jumping me is _normal._ Then again, I have a smart mouth. At least the blood didn't get on my new shoes though.

I gaze up at the cloudy cerulean skies with two pieces of crimson tissue in my nose. I lost my headphones in the fight, so I have nothing to listen to on my walk to my dorm. I have no car, so it isn't like I can drive there. Campus buses are out for a while because of the weather, and my dorm is like a mile away. I thought of maybe taking one of the small cars on campus, but decide against it because I didn't need anymore bad reports again.

I felt like sad ass piano music is playing in my life right now. It is about to rain, I have a bloody nose, my lip hurts, and I really have to fucking piss. These I guess are the perks of not having friends in college.

It began to rain about five minutes later, and fifteen minutes later I finally made it to my dorm drenched. My shoes squeaked against the floor as I walked through the boys dorm, ignoring a couple of guys looking at me and laughing at either my appearance, or my  _appearance_. I stick my key into my doorknob and jerk open the door, making sure to slam it back and head over to my side of the room. From the sound coming from the bathroom, my roommate is taking a shower. I begin to take off my dripping clothes and throw them onto the floor, eventually leaving me in my tight boxer briefs, and drop dead onto my bed. I use my covers to dry my hair slightly before I just sit silently on my bed, waiting for my  _roommate_  to come out the bathroom so I could shower.

" _Something bout you, makes me feel like a dangerous woman_!" I raise my eyebrow and look at the bathroom door. Rolling my eyes, I place my head in my hands and try not to commit suicide. " _Something bout, something bout, something bout!_ " I lift myself out of the bed and walk over to the bathroom. Opening the door, I ignore the steam and push the door against the door to make noise. My roommate flinches from behind the confines of the shower and opens the shower curtain hurriedly. His blonde hair flops and he looks at me in shock with his baby blue eyes. "Eren!"

"Armin, can you please shut the hell up and get out the shower? My ass is quivering from the cold and my balls are probably raisins by now!" Armin's jaw dropped before he scowls.

"What?  _No_. I still need to shave my legs and condition my hair! I'll be - Eren!" I slam the door closed and walk over to my bed again. I cross my arms and pout, of course, and try to think of something to do to pass time.  _I_  have to shave  _too_.

God, the price you pay for having two flaming homos dorm together.

"Don't use up all my Dove shampoo either!" I yell as loudly as possible. I get a response immediately.

"I'm not an animal killer!"

" _Shut up!_ "

I pout on the bed for a couple minutes before I grab my jeans down on the floor. They are soaked from head to toe, mostly because I stepped in mud. I dig into the pockets and pull out the folded notes I got from the guy in class today. It is halfway soaked, the blue line-paper ink degrading and ruining the writing on it. "Great." I murmur to myself as I open up the piece of paper. I accidentally tear a hole into it slightly. I look at the annotations that are ruined and doodles that looked like dripping water paint. Throwing the paper onto the carpeted floor, I sigh and run my hands through my hair.

My nose finally stops bleeding, so I throw the bloody pieces of tissue into the kitchen trash and grab a wine cooler on the way. Popping it open, I drink half of it before I belch loudly. Patting my tummy, I grin and take a few more sips. I was about to begin to make a sandwich before Armin started to strut into the kitchen in red boxer briefs, a big contrast to my dull grey ones, and lifts his leg onto the kitchen counter to show his freshly shaven legs.

"Look at that." He grins and palms his soft legs. "Beauty. Gorgeous. All worth the wait to see, huh? I know, I know. You don't have to tell me." Armin takes his leg off and struts around the kitchen counter to me, as depressed as I look, and smiles. Immediately, the grin on his face vanishes as he speaks. "Did that look okay? I'm heading down to Jean's and I want to have a good entrance, you know?" I try to look angry, because he is going to see Jean again, but I can't help but smirk at how serious he is taking this.

"It was perfect. Don't put your leg on the counter though. Kind of ruins the appeal." Armin nods and leans against the counter with me. I take another drink of the wine cooler, cross my arms, and lean them onto the counter. "Why are you going over to Jean's?"

"He wants to try it out again today. Like," Armin pauses and fiddles with his fingers. He soon rubs his hand down his chest, a nervous habit of his, and bite his lip. "Cause you know, last time he couldn't get it up. So hopefully my appearance will help. My legs were really hairy last time."

"If he wants a chick, I'm pretty sure he could find one." I try not to yell because I've had this conversation with him a thousand times. Jean likes _girls_. He has always likes girls. Armin looks like a girl, but appeals to Jean's 'tom-boy' needs, so he wants Armin to stay looking at girl so he doesn't feel like the words he calls me on a daily basis. "Does he know you have a full blown dick, or are you gonna pin that down and buy a fleshlight?"

"Eren, can we not have this conversation? I know you don't like Jean, but he has been really nice to me and he is not like -"

"' - the other ones'. I know, I know." I swallow the lump in my throat that was filled with words that spewed the truth. I grinned and gazed down at the ingredients on the wine cooler glass to avoid any eye contact. "But it's not like you've had any  _'bad'_  ones, Armin." My grin falls. "A guy buying you a half-pound of food for you to eat isn't exactly bad." Armin rolls his eyes at my response.

"He wanted me to be fat. He had a fetish. That is bad and weird to me. You don't have too bring up past relationships, because I'm sure you wouldn't want me to do that."He raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. He cocks his hip and looks at me as if I was his boyfriend and I was cheating him, which I'm sure Jean has probably done if I stay guaranteed to his personality.

"I literally tell everyone about my relationships. It helps them, so I really don't give a shit." I swipe my hair out of my face and take a sip of my drink again. "Remember Christa? Her boyfriend had literally cheated on her in her house, and when I told her that my ex fucked one of the waiters on our night out at an Olive Garden bathroom, which I caught them at, she got her life together and turned gay. I change lives."

"She was bisexual, and you can't turn gay."

"Oh my god, Armin, I know! It was a joke! You know what, leave." I flutter my hand at him, making him laugh at me, and tilt my head in annoyance. "And if you don't have sex with Jean tonight, please don't come home and eat my junk food. I keep them for future break ups." Armin walks over to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. Wiggling his hips, probably practicing for tonight, he begins to head to his closet.

"Whatever, whatever, I'm going to change. Go pee so I can use the mirror afterwards."

"No problem."

* * *

"The assignment today revolves around a more high school concept - symbolism. You will be required to read the piece of writing I provide and convince me of the most meaningful symbolism within the book. I expect about twelve pages of work from this assignment, so pick a scene that holds representation or importance. Pick a scene from a book that you may be connected with, and you may not pick a scene from a book we have read already in this class. I would like a full blown explanation and scene placement, along with the book title, plot, and area with a coherent essay."

The whole class nods in unison at his words. Hands also rise, waiting to ask questions that could probably be asked privately. I sigh slightly and lean against the palm of my hand. I adore English class, don't get me wrong, but the build up of citing proof and explanations always bore me. I'm more of an arguer, which is why I use to be debate president in high school, but I don't want to brag (much). I lick my lips and shift uncomfortably in my outfit. I decided to wear blue jeans and a simple white shirt today. I wanted to go to the gym, and I really didn't feel like getting glared at, judged, or fought there on the way. I hate baggy jeans though. They ride up my ass, oddly, and make my ankles look fat. Ugh.

"However, there is a twist." All hands that are up start to fall down and eyes that are unfocused start to gaze up. "I would like this to be a group assignment."

I regret going to college for many reasons: the money, the people, and the teachers. But if I had to get real specific, it's because of this literature class. Well, not entirely, but at this moment, I hate my entire life. I hate groups, and let it just be my luck I get paired with a homophobic asshole.

"Eren Jaeger and Michael Love." Minutes after I am contemplating dropping the class, my name is called and my professor waits for me to head to the front. He holds the book he is going to assign to me and my partner in his hands. I make my way to the front, hands in my blue jean pockets and trying hard not to pull attention. Thankfully, the majority of the students are talking to their partners and discussing the books they received. I make it to the professor first, and after a few seconds, I notice my partner is no where in sight. The professor cocks a gray eyebrow and gazes around the room.

"Michael Love?" No answer. I chew the inside of my cheek. The professor looks down at the sheet of paper on his desk and soon enough lets out a sound of realization. "My apologizes, I forgot he dropped this class. I'll just pair you with the next person on the list." He nods at me and heads back to stand next to me. "Levi Ackerman?"

His pearly cerulean eyes melted my insides like butter, and as my stomach opened entrance to a dozen blue morpho butterflies, breathing suddenly became harder. My heart thumped, punching and kicking at my rib cage. My thin fingers wiggled slightly, toes scrunched up, and body leaned more upward - all to accommodate the new irises. My tongue fought for moisture to speak, but for once, I couldn't say much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up in a couple days, or not. But either way - I love everyone. Thanks for reading!


	3. Stupid Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, but I promise the next one will be longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has a lot of information, but it kind of focuses on the purpose of the video Eren uploaded. It holds a lot of symbolism within a character I made - Jay - who kind of changes the dynamic of Eren's life. I know it's a lot to kind of take in - but I think it will make more sense as the story goes on?

After seconds of uploading my new video, I was rampaged with comments and views. It was the middle of the night, and I couldn't be more surprised when I woke up and saw that I had hit five hundred thousand views after the first night. The comments were overwhelming, and I decided to look through them at the end of the day after I got my nails done. As I waited to respond to the thousands of comments, I watched my video over and over again to subdue my subtle regret of posting it in the first place.

In my series, I usually talk about typical sexual tips and experiences I have had to help other men and women understand the activity that is sex. My most known videos are full of me giving advice about things such as sex positions or new sex toys. The majority have about three million views, and were initially the start of my career. I started to make more videos that consisted of giving advice, but being very clear when dividing a thick line between personal experiences and general advice. Many of my subscribers don't mind how impersonal I am, but there is also a vast majority that seek out real-life experiences - something I haven't been able to give them for years.

I mean, being a twenty-five-year-old gay male who has been in over ten relationships isn't the best mile stone. Not only that, but I was a blabber mouth in college, and I use to tell everyone about my relationships. I would use it as a guilt trip most of the time, using it to say 'you may have gone through that, but listen to _my_ story.' It was my way of calling for attention, and it helped me cope. However, when you grow up and say 'fuck relationships', the pitiful look you get when you say it is all it took for me to start gluing my lips shut about my past boyfriends.

So, when I uploaded the most recent video of 'Let's Talk About Sex' titled  _'My First Crush'_ , I did not know what to expect at all. Firstly, a crush isn't exactly  _sex_ , and secondly, who wants to hear about something so cliché?

Well, evidently, a lot.

* * *

 

**Hannah Hope**

_letsgetweird123_

my first crush ended with me fighting him and getting transferred to a new school. It was an odd ordeal, but the meaning is – we all have _those_ days Eren. We love you!

_3:24 AM - June 2, 2017_

* * *

 

"So, who is your so-called  _first crush_?"

Armin turns his head to look at me with an interested face, pink lips puckered and chopped blonde hair straightened so well it looked like he just got it done. His legs are crossed properly in his bright [white ](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=236174986)jeans, velvet roses littered at the thighs, and decorated t-shirt that made the nail technicians give a side eye. He leans backward into the comfy leather chair and places his elbow on the counter, not paying attention to the woman pressing a small drill into the corners of his cuticle.

"You know who." I respond, thanking that the person on my nails decided to stop using the nail drill on my fingers and opted for a nail filer instead. I turn my attention away from him, itch my side from the tickling fabric of my [outfit](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=236175019), and focus on Armin's curious eyes. "The  _fineness_ that was Jay Thomas in high school. You remember?"

Armin's eyes widen, and a chuckle escapes his mouth. "Wow, Jay? You guys use to hang out like…all the time? Don't tell me you were…"

"I wish!" I almost shout. I try to keep still and not move my hands, but the excitement of my first crush made my stomach bubble. "He was into cars a lot, and at the time I had Dad's BMW until I crashed it. He liked me till then." Armin's eyebrow raised. "Well, not  _like_ like. You know what I mean."

"Now that I think about it, you always did take him home afterschool. Damn. I wish I was more attentive back then."

"Yeah, it was hard to considering Jean was all on your ass the majority of the time."

"Well, I am cute." Armin chuckles at his own joke. The nail technician smiles at his comment, and lays Armin's delicate hand onto the leather counter bed. He gazes on his acrylic nails, sharp and canine-looking, and gives a smirk. "But he only got attached to me because of you."

Ah, the sentence that gives me the most regret. I avert my eyes and sigh. Armin notices, and gets up out of his seat to go wash the powder and dust off of his nails. I remind him to dry his hands nicely, because the nail polish's pigment is shit when the surface is wet, and wait patiently for my nails to be ready for washing.

There never use to be a day when me and Jean _didn't_ hang out. Throughout middle school, we were attached to the hip and it seemed as if our minds were cloned. We were like doppelgangers, except we didn't look much alike. But we spoke in the same dialect, and we had the same thoughts, and we had the same friends, and we had the same walk – but he lacked much more than me. I like to say he lacked common sense, or he had gained ignorance throughout the years, but I know in reality we just _changed_ – whether that be a good thing or a bad thing.

I _became_  gay, and he  _became_  a homophobic. It wasn't a surprise, and it wasn't anything I didn't expect. I  _suddenly_  transformed into a flaming homo, and he  _suddenly_  despised my every being. Except, we both knew about our underlying secrets, and the moment they came out – it was suddenly  _sudden._ No, I knew from the start that Jean had a hate for homosexuals. It had nothing to do with him, other than the fact that he didn't like things that were different. He didn't like when I cut my hair, and he didn't like when I gained weight, and he didn't like when I got more friends, and he didn't like when life circled without his hands twisting it.

I have always known I was gay. It wasn't a change, and it wasn't something different. It wasn't  _sudden_ , as Jean called it. It was just sudden because when I announced those words – _the confirmation, the reassurance, the demand, the assertion_ – he couldn't stand by the thought that he believed I was too 'pussy' to admit it. So, when I did, I wasn't 'Eren Jaegar' anymore. I was fag, pussy, homo, pansy, and any other names his throat decided the constrict against.

So, in a way, we both  _didn't even change_. We are the exactly the same as we use to be, except our hidden secrets became so revealed that it broke us apart. But that is the way life goes, I guess.

"What color: black or pink?" Armin comes back beaming, excited for the colors he chose for his nail color. I look at the colors he shows me, enticed by the lovely pink and repulsed by the emptiness of the unappealing black. With the thoughts of Jean on my mind, and Armin's optimism for things he didn't understand - I reluctantly reply.

"I like the black."

"Really? I was thinking the pink." Armin voices. He shrugs his shoulder and places the pink to the side either way. "But the black is nice, I guess."

Minutes after getting his nails painted with the solemn color, Armin finds a certain rainbow in it. He gleams that he actually likes the color, and that it isn't too bad now that he has tried it. It is just like him to find  _joy_  in the worst of things, but it is also his worst quality of not understanding why the things are  _bad_  in the first place.

"That's a bit obnoxious." I tilt my head to look at Armin's face as he reacts to the paint job done on my [nails](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeAvuCTSUA4). I shrug my shoulder, smirk a little, and admire the feisty appearance of my design. Not only that, but my nails are longer than the size of my thumb. I look at my left hand, which is drying from the cool air from the mini fan, and respond to Armin.

"Well, I am too."

* * *

 

_“We had met on the first day of high school. At the time, I wasn’t really out yet, so it wasn’t like I had anyone to talk to about advancing the steps of my first crush. So instead, I tried to become friends with him. He was a sophomore then so he naturally wasn’t that into forming friendships with new people, but after two years I finally grew the balls and spoke to him once more. He was nice as a senior, and I think that only made my crush worse.”_

_“Anyways, at the time, my dad had bought his first BMW. He is overly proud of it, and in his excitement, he let me drive it to school and back home until he could buy me my own car. My dad kind of did things backwards then, so it wasn’t surprising that he made me drive an expensive ass car first instead of a dirty, old junkyard one.”_

_“My crush loved cars. Like, more in love with them than he would ever be with anyone else. So of course, my dumbass used that to advantage, and I offered to take him home from school every day. I didn’t really think about it much. I never really thought through anything back then. In the end, I ended up crashing the BMW. I know, I know – but you guys know I’m a terrible driver.”_

_“My first crush ended from there. I didn’t have a BMW, and I almost got sued because he had a couple of broken ribs. I was fine though, ironically. My dad paid for his bill, and eventually grounded me for life – ya know, typical parent shit.”_

_“I really don’t know the point of me telling this story. I don’t want anyone to feel pity for me because my first crush ended this way, but I just wanted to, I don’t know… open up more? I have been on YouTube for about five years now, and I have always strayed away from telling anything personal on my channel. You guys deserve to know me, because you guys always tell me about yourselves and I help you and I just want… us to be equal? If that makes sense.”_

_“My first crush means a lot to me, but not in the best way. I feel like he was the spark for all of the rest of my failing relationships, and I wish I didn’t think like that. The way it started, to how it ended was just full of disappointment. But yeah… that’s my first crush video! It’s kind of simple and not as interesting, but I think it is a great step for me to open up to you guys. If you guys have any advice for me, leave it in the comments and I’ll try my best to read them all.”_

* * *

**Ryan Doubt**

_Yoursecretsk_

How did you crash?

_6:01 PM- June 2, 2017_

* * *

 “How did I crash…” I release a chuckle. I nibble on the donuts between my obnoxiously long nails and gaze down at my phone. “How do you think I crashed? _God_.” My bed is filled with tiny crumbs. I begin to wipe them off my bed and lick my fingers. Scrolling down, I read other tweets quoted to me, laughing when funny and angry when stupid.  That one tweet, however, keep rising up in the back of my mind.

_How did you crash?_

After Armin and I’s nails were dry, I paid for both of our sets and offered to go eat dinner with him. He declined, after reluctantly announcing that he was invited to a party by some of his old college friends, and pathetically asked me for money for a ride home. I gave him some, and said goodbye. I guess those are the ins and outs of an old friendship.

So, I went home in my beat up burgundy Buick, blasting Tyler The Creator and hoping it would make me less likely to get mad at Armin later. It didn’t work, because the minute I entered our shared apartment, his sweet smell of blossom hit my nose and made me sneeze. I cooped up into my bedroom, making sure to lock it, and laid in my bed with only boxers and socks on.

I now scroll though my Twitter depressingly, trying to find things to fill up the lost time that didn’t involve editing videos or making them.

_How did you crash?_

 Jay liked to listen to music louder than anyone I’ve ever known. It blasted through the speakers and vibrated my seat as if the BMW didn’t do it enough. His fingers were tight around the wheel as he sang along, digging into the pristine wheel cover my father had bought. I knew I would spend time trying to make it look brand new after he left, but it’s not my fault Jay was a brute. But then again, I already knew my father would kill me if he even knew that I let him drive his brand-new BMW.

He persuaded me, with a glimmering smile and subtle touches on my forearm. He gave me _goosebumps_. He knew how I was, and he knew _who_ I was. But it’s not like he wasn’t anything different. He agreed that our _‘friendship’_ was just that – a friendship. I had no issue, except when his touches lingered on my body as a way of teasing me. All I had to do was slide up to his house with the silk black machine, and he gave me what I wanted – even if it was just him holding my hand for a few seconds.

During that drive afterschool, he had persuaded me to let him drive in the same way. I agreed, being as desperate as I was for affection and also being seventeen. So, we drove for hours, his happiness exceeding mine and us just having a good time in general.

We crashed about an hour and fifteen minutes in. He was talking to me about how much he liked me, and how he wished he was gay. It was weird, because I knew he was gay, or at least bisexual, but he _didn’t know_. He just didn’t understand it. He just didn’t think it _existed_ within him. It was weird how he worked. I’ve always wondered where those thoughts of his came from.

 _“I just – it’s hard ya know. I really like you. You’re really cool.”_ Jay said to me, a smile beaming on his face and eyes watching the road intensely. _“I just wish I could do it.”_ The silence was deafening. I didn’t respond, annoyed that this guy who I found affection in didn’t understand it. I only pushed back my brown lock of hair and gazed out of the car window. _“How do you do_ it?”

 _“What? Be gay?”_ I responded. “ _I don’t know. I just love who I love._ ”

“ _That just sounds gay_.” I roll my eyes at his response.

“ _Whatever._ ”

I didn’t really know Jay didn’t have a driver’s license. I mean, I just assumed he did considering he was a senior. His driving wasn’t bad at all, but then again, we were on the highway most of the time. He swerved a bit here and there – nothing I didn’t do either. He pulled over on the highway, which already made me reluctant. But I really didn’t have time to think about it. He didn’t put it in park, but we were luckily on a hill so it didn’t move up much. He looked over at me, and out of no where he gave me my first kiss.

And then someone smashed into us from behind. A lane isn’t exactly a parking spot.

I don’t have the greatest first times, but I guess it was meant to be.

* * *

 

**Eren Jaeger**

_jaegerspears_

I parked on the highway. People in Cali never slow down on the highway, so we were t-boned after hit from the back. We were just stupid boys back then. Can’t blame us though.

_9:23 PM- June 2, 2017_

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who are really the stupid boys in the this chapter? Well, kind of all of them.
> 
> Eren and Jay's relationship is something I came up with purely to help you guys understand why Eren has such issues with romance later in the story. Eren purely believes in symbolic signs in life - and he believes that the car crash kind of represented that he and Jay were not meant to be together, especially because Jay was in denial with his sexuality and only used Eren for his money and innocence as a sexual partner (though they didn't do much). This really messes with Eren considering all he wants is for someone to love him, but it seems like fate doesn't like him much.
> 
> Anyways, next chapter we kind of stray away from other relationships (like Armin)(everyone hates Armin lmao) and focus on the gem that is Levi. See you guys there.


	4. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Levi have a simple conversation together as partners, but it holds a deeper value for both of them in different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got accepted into good ass school y'all lmao now I can focus on writing.

Through blue mockingbirds in the corner of my eye and a green dragonfly fluttering over my head, my eyes switched to the stormy sky trapped into oval lenses. His head tilted with black locks falling silky against his naturally red cheek – and for a moment I was enraptured by his appearance. The birds chirped, and his voice tied into the harmony.

“Have you ever read it?” I snap out of my lingering gaze and raise my eyebrows at him. Ackerman, I forgot his first name, points to the soft crimson colored book in his hands. He flips through it before repeating himself. “Have you read it – the book?” He then tucks the novel under his arm and pays more attention to the water bottle hanging off his hips. “I read it in high school. I’m surprised he assigned such a typical novel.”

 _Typical_. I’ve never heard of the book in my life. The [cover](https://www.npr.org/books/titles/146211722/one-flew-over-the-cuckoos-nest), which looked straight out of kid’s coloring book, had the outline of hands and something undistinguished in the background. It seemed mysterious, if my wording couldn’t get any more worse, and I wasn’t sure if I liked the first impression. But he, a guy with wings for eyes, seemed genuinely interested in the book.

“No, I haven’t.” I voice. “I took mostly average classes in high school. The most we read was Shakespeare.” I want to laugh to break the awkward fog surrounding us, but Ackerman shrugged his shoulders with a faint ‘okay.’ “I read fast though. Then we can work on the project.”

“Can you get it done in two weeks?” Two weeks? Hell, to the fuck no. I have a life to live, thank you. But my dumbass, wanting to show off in front of the blue-eyed cutie, scoffs and rolls my eyes.

“Yeah! I could do it in a week if you wanted.”

“That would be perfect actually. So, a week is fine?” Oh, fuck me.

“Sure is. What day do you want to meet up again?”

January 4th, 2012 at 9:30AM, in the library. I wrote this day on my phone, calendar, and even told Armin so he could remind me. It was a week away, of course, so I was going to wait awhile. I started to read the book two days in.

 

_To Vik Lovell_

_Who told me dragons did not exist,_

_then led me to their lairs_

After the first few lines, I was pulled in immediately, and it seemed as I couldn’t stop reading it by then. I don’t know if maybe I resonated with the lines, because maybe my life consisted of me not listening to the symbolic warnings of life, or maybe because Ackerman smiled so calmly toward the cover, or maybe because I want to be a writer now.

I’m not sure, but I know that I don’t regret reading the first four chapters in one night.

“What are you reading?” Armin pokes his head over my shoulder the look down at the book. My fingers were tucked into the middle part of the book, trying to stomp down the heavy pages pushing up against the crease. I held a blue pen in hands, circling things I found important and other ideas I thought of sharing with Ackerman.

“A book.”

“Well, I know that. What kind of book? Is it for your English course?”

“Yeah.” I place my bookmark in the crease, which has become a popsicle stick at this point considering how many times I lost my other ones. “It’s a book about people in a nut house and a nurse with big boobs. Wanna read it?”

“No thanks.” Armin concludes. He grabs a soda can from the fridge and pops it open, hesitating to take a sip to speak. “You lost me at book, to be honest.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Because I love you, friend.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re in a mood.” He finally announces. I shrug my shoulders. I’m always in a mood at this point.

“It’s nothing. It’s just stress.” Armin nods his head in understanding. He continues to sip his drink nonchalantly, watching me as I continue to read the book now that he is silent. Only after about two minutes doe Armin try to make conversation with me again. “Do you want to go to the frat party tonight?”

“And get pushed around all night? No thank you.”

“You know he wouldn’t let that happen.”

“ _Armin_.” I sigh softly and rub the hill above my nose. “You don’t know him like I do. And his parties suck anyways. Doesn’t he always have chicks all on him anyways? Why would you even want to go?”

Armin’s forehead creases, and I can tell I’ve hit a sore spot. “Well, you don’t _know_ him like _I_ do either.”

“I know he is a stuck-up asshole who finds joy in fucking my best friend then leaving him for a tramp. But I guess there are all sides to each story.” He grips the soda can, and I imagine he wishes it was my throat.

“Fuck off, Eren. I just came to talk to you and you’re making it all about him. It’s always about him! I know you guys have had a falling out, but you can’t expect me to chose a side!” His breathing becomes heavier, and I only look at him in his desperate eyes as he yells at me. “I _like_ Jean. He is nice to _me_. And I just want to help him _figure things out_.”

I can only stare at him for a small number of seconds. I turn my attention back into my book moments afterwards, hoping that the story will teleport me to another universe for a second. I fiddle with the paper corner. “Then help him.”

No response. Only a harsh throw of the soda can into the trash and sounds of his shoes walking to the front door. “I will.” The door slammed shut.

* * *

 

I met Ackerman once more on the day before January 4th. I had not seen him all week, and I made sure to keep reading as much of the book as I could. Soon enough, however, the words started to get all muddled together. My thoughts had legs of their own, and instances where I thought I could relax were filled with me stressing about other classes, having arguments with Armin, avoiding run-ins with Jean and his crew, and or calling my dad to talk about tuition payments.

For hours, I keep reading the same lines over and over again before thinking of something else. So here I am, walking along the campus trying to glue my eyes to that line and keep my mind occupied enough to continue. My feet step far away from each other, and my hair keeps whipping in the wind and getting stuck on my lip. The tree’s rustle loudly, and I can’t focus for a moment, and the sun is burning the words on the page, so I can’t focus for that moment either. I read aloud the line once more hoping the vocal announcement will urge me to continue.

_“Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing. A man go around lettin’ a woman whup him down till he can’t laugh any more, and he loses one of the biggest edges he’s got on his side.”_

“McMurphy is quite the character.” I hear a voice near me. I decided last minute to sit on a bench and try to read the whole chapter. I lift my head up from reading that one line and look over to my left. There Ackerman sits, blue jeans on and a white sweater, and gazes at the book in my hands. “Sexist, impulsive, ignorant, and violent. Not the most influential character.” I tilt my head at his comment.

“I actually disagree.” I smirk slightly and adjust my legs in my boring jogging pants. “Beyond that, he is a pretty nice guy. Just a little crazy.” I close the book and rub my palm on the soft cover. “He reminds me of myself in high school.”

“Well, that says a lot about you.”

“It did, anyways.” I begin to stand up off the bench. “Not much like that anymore.” Ackerman stares up at me. His eyes are hooded, almost like he hardly got any sleep, and his expression tells me nothing about how he feels. I fiddle on my feet and scratch the back of my head. “Have you been reading it too?”

“Yes. I’ve been stuck on a part for a couple hours.” He stands up as well. I then notice the book on the cuff of his elbow that is littered with sticky notes. “I saw you sit here from the library. I wanted to ask if you mind if we extend our meet up? It looks like we’ll need more time anyways.” He looks at my book as he says it. I raise my eyebrows and nod. Thank god.

“That’s fine! I’ve been stuck too, ya know. What chapter?”

He told me, and we suddenly flowed into an array of conversation. How long had it been since I’ve talked to someone other than myself and Armin?

_How long had it been since I’ve had an intellectual conversation with a person other than Armin? How long had it been since I’ve actually been able to walk long side someone on a college campus, like the strolls I’ve seen in movies, and talk about things not involving me?_

It felt nice. He spoke in soft tones, something I could fall asleep too, and just from the way he spoke – I could tell he genuinely loved the book. He held the book close to his abdomen, messenger bag hitting his thigh as we walked and talked about the book. Even though we weren’t even close to finishing, we began discussing symbolic ideals in the book to write about. He chuckled at my outrageous assumption that all the characters in the book were gay. I laughed at his sour irritation of characters he didn’t like.

It felt less like an assignment, and more like a walk with a friend. And I couldn’t have been more fulfilled and content with the way my day had went after that.

Well, mostly because it was spent with him.

“A vanilla bean Frappuccino?”

“Yeah,” I respond, wanting to chuckle at the look of reluctance on his face. “It tastes more like a milkshake than anything else. Do you want a muffin?”

The bitter smell of coffee cleared my nose, and with the sound of the workers behind to counter flopping around cartons of milk and tugging on machines, I could hardly hear Ackerman’s response.

“Sure. Let me get my wallet – “

“No,” I voice a little too loudly. Ackerman looks up from digging into his messenger bag and raises an eyebrow. “I’ll pay. Just because I enjoyed walking with you today.” How much worse could I get at flirting? Ackerman puckers his lips and zips his bag once more.

“Okay. What are you getting?”

“Two Frappuccino’s and two muffins.”

As Ackerman searched for a seat, I asked the barista to add extra syrup to his Frappuccino. It cost me twenty more cents. I grabbed some napkins and made my way to the table Ackerman chose. He decided to sit next to a window, the sun shining on his matte face and enhancing every feature I found attractive. He placed his bag onto the empty chair next to him. I situated myself across from him and put down the napkins.

When I lifted my face to look at him again, he was gazing at me. He smirked for some odd reason, and grabbed a napkin off the table. “So, what made you want to come here?” I thought for a minute for a better reason rather than _‘I want to just stare at your fine ass all day.’_

“I have nothing else to do.” I watch as he starts to fold the napkin. “And there is nothing wrong with getting know my partner – is it?”

“True, but we have been in the same class all year. What made you talk to me now?”

All year? I’ve never seen him in the class my entire life. My face scrunches up, and by the look on Ackerman’s face, I can tell he notices my confusion.

“I usually sit in the front.” Oh. I want to scratch the back of my head to cut the awkward tension I made. Ackerman chuckles and uses his crisp nail to tighten the napkin corners. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. I know I’m not memorable.”

“No!” I assert with a higher pitch than normal. Ackerman’s eyes seem to shine when I respond. “I sit in the back, obviously. I hardly know what the teacher looks like. Don’t take offense to it.” I lick my lips. “You’ll probably be the only memorable person I know in there now, because I actually like you – ya know?” Why am I still talking? “Not to say I don’t like other students, it’s just they are sometimes annoying. Like, ramble about stupid shit. I’m kind of glad I got you as a partner – ya know?”

“Yeah, I _know._ ” I almost want to reach over and caress his face, as creepy as that sounds, when he lets out a genuine smile at my rambling. He brings attention to the napkin in his hands when he looks down. The napkin is formed in the shape of an origami bird – it’s wings floppy but nevertheless a flawless creation. I wanted to take it back to my dorm and put it on my table, mostly in remembrance of the paper he doodled on that my dumbass got wet.

Ackerman places the creation on the middle of the table. He looks back up at me and swipes a lock of his hair behind his ear. “You’re not good at this.”

At what?

Before I could ask, our drinks are placed onto the table along with our warm chocolate muffins. I thank the server who wishes us a good day and separate our drinks. I hand Ackerman his Frappuccino, which has extra syrup like I asked, and place his muffin on a napkin as I slide it to him. He thanks me and takes a sip of the drink. I wait for a response.

“It’s good.” He finally says after swirling the thin straw in the thick drink. “All it needs is a cherry.”

“They probably have those. Want me to ask?” Ackerman raises an eyebrow at me and begins to pick at his muffin.

“I was _kidding_ , but thanks for the thought.”

I ended up giving him the rest of my muffin after he demolished his, claiming that he loves chocolate. I almost want to give myself a pat on my back after choosing to give him extra syrup. We talk about the class more as we sit, and soon enough we started to develop personal questions to ask.

“What is your major?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“What is your favorite color?”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“What type of music do you like?”

“What are your hobbies?”

He majored in liberal arts. He grew up in Vermont, which explains his fair skin. His favorite color is tangerine orange. He has no siblings, but he has cousins he treats as so. He likes jazz and hip-hop, and even suggested sharing his playlist with me. He likes to write poems and paint in his past time.

I couldn’t hear enough of him. I asked him so much that he hardly had the time to ask me anything, till he did.

“So, what about you?” I blinked, wondering what he was referring to. Ackerman fiddled with the straw to his drink and raised his thin eyebrow at me. “You can’t expect me to sit here and answer all of your underlying questions. Answer your own.”

I smirk. “Reasonable.” My breath hitches before I recap on the questions I’ve asked. “My major is psychology, and I minor in literature.”

“Minor in literature, but you hate reading?”

“It’s complicated.” I laugh softly. “I like it when I reflect on it, but not the initial work.”

“Reasonable.” He mocks my previous phrase. I try not to get giddy, and only gaze at him with eyes even he could tell held a passionate desire. I avert after he blinks and continue.

“I grew up in Chicago. Moved to St. Louis, and lived there until I moved here in California.” He tilts his head. I try not to become memorized. “My favorite color is lavender. I have no siblings, and I like jazz too.” My head throbs slightly. “What was the last one?”

“Your hobbies.”

“Oh,” I pause. “Well – I like to…” My stomach turns, and I try to focus on the origami bird Ackerman made. I pick at its wings. “Sometimes I like to play with makeup.” Fuck. “I mean – like face paint!” I save myself with the weeping lie. “I’ve always liked face paint…”

Ackerman looks at me with a spark of interest. He reminds me of the moon with half of his face shining from the bright sun, and the other half sunken in the darkness of the café. The cast of light gets smaller and smaller as he stares at me. His lips pucker, and he takes another sip of his drink. I wait for a response.

“I like it too.”

* * *

 

“And where have _you_ been?” Armin bombards me with questions the minute I walk into our shared dorm apartment. His hair is propped up into a bun, and he wears his signature short shorts and a baby blue tank top. I place the origami bird in my hand onto the counter along with my bag. Armin still looks at me from our small couch.

“Out. I was getting to know my English Literature partner.” I open up our fridge and search for something to drink. Maybe a beer, or some intense Hennessy.

“Who was he? He must have been interesting to keep you out all day.” Armin bites his nails as he stares at me. It’s a nervous habit of his.

“His name is Ackerman. Well, his last name. I forgot his first name.” Armin raises a curious eyebrow.

“Levi? Levi Ackerman?” I look up from glaring at the refrigerator for food.

“You know him?”

“Uh, yeah. He is in my art class. He paints some, uh, weird stuff.” He looks disturbed when he says it. I want to ignore the look, because I’m still angry at him for this whole week, but I love gossip just as much as the next guy.

“Like what?”

“Well,” Armin clears his throat. “He paints Renaissance-y. He has great technique, but their really graphic. Once he drew a man eating a girl’s chest as coins fell out of her insides. It was weird as hell.” Armin shakes his head and leans against the couch. “There was also a time he drew dinosaurs as people with people as dinosaurs. It was odd.” Armin notices my hesitance. “But he is still an awesome artist! He once drew this painting of a girl and it was _beautiful_. He just has a twist to things.”

“I wasn’t worried.” I assure him. “I was just wondering if you actually thought those type of paintings meant he was a bad artist.”

“I never said that. I just said he is weird.”

“I’m weird too.” I add. Armin is silent for a second before sighing.

“Do we always have to take things so literal?”

Do you always have to say stupid shit? It’s like you spend a day with jocks and a science lab and you suddenly have the best opinion on the fucking world. “No.” – is my only answer. I stay silent for the rest of our night.

* * *

 

“So, she tells me – ‘Connie, you are never hear anymore and I think we should take a break.’ I mean, you know how I am Eren, so I cut that shit off immediately. I tell her, ‘You are not going anywhere!’ Then she slaps me and sends me some long ass message threatening me that she’ll get her brother to beat my ass. Please, he is like sixteen. I know I’m short, but I’m not that short.”

“Isn’t her brother already six feet tall?”

“And?’ I really want to punch Connie. He is the only guy I know is always up my ass, and not in the good way either. Whenever he has some type of problem, it’s like I’m the first person he comes to for some type of advice. I should really start charging for that bullshit.

The sun is covered by the white clouds this early morning and it is oddly silent for being so early in the day. No birds, no planes, no talking – nothing. So as Connie speaks to me about stupid nonsense during my outside breakfast – which is spaghetti - it echoes like a bell in my ear.

“Either way, I just need to know how to get her back.” Connie soon concludes.

“Well you have to tell me the full story.”

“I did?”

“Oh please,” I scoff. “You’re telling me all you said was that she was not going anywhere? Nice try, but I know you well enough that you said more than that. You have a smart-ass mouth.” Connie wants to retort, but my assertive glare cuts him off.

“I may have called her some names.”

“Like what?”

“Um, a bitch?”

“Oh,” I let out a laugh, “- you are _never_ getting her back.”

“What!”

“What do you think?” I sit up from leaning in the food court chair and glare at Connie. “That you can call her a bitch and be possessive at the same time? Sorry, but even I wouldn’t take that shit. Maybe instead of hanging out with your _gay_ group, you should learn how to respect someone in a relationship and not be a complete douchebag.”

“Well,” Connie looks me up and down. “I know some _faggot_ didn’t call me gay.” I pause, looking into his eyes for a few seconds before shaking my head.

“Goodbye, Connie.”

He walks away from my table, stubborn attitude showing in his posture and mumbling under his breath. He leaves me to enjoy my _spaghetti_. I try not the reflect on the words and enjoy my meal. I twist the noodle and place it in my mouth. At my empty table, with a not-so empty mind.

“That was an interesting conversation.” – a familiar voice comments. I look up from my food and see Ackerman, sunlight gleaming over his face and highlights defined, staring at me at my seat. He points his thumb to the walking figure who was Connie and shrugs his shoulder. “Not the best company to have.”

“You heard all of that?” I try to chuckle to diffuse the embarrassment. “Yeah, he has some anger issues. He’ll be back next week saying sorry though, so no worries.” I laugh again, but Ackerman doesn’t. He only pulls out the chair and sits down slowly. He gazes at me, and it is like his eyes are speaking to me. They tell me the simplicity. The evident. Things I should do and not do.

_Why do you let everyone walk over you?_

I fiddle with the food on my plate. Ackerman averts his eyes and opens his mouth to speak.

“You mentioned you liked to paint. The art classroom is open for the rest of the week. If you want, we can go in there and paint?” He explains more. “I thought maybe painting and reading a book went well together. Is that okay?”

I nod, and suddenly I could hear the birds chirp again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how simple Eren and Levi speak to each other. And I also enjoy how their meeting is really just uncomplicated. It's what college students do all the time when having a group assignment, so it isn't out of the norm. I think having their meeting be so simple really sets the scene for a good ass development later in the story. But anyways, hope you all enjoyed, I'll be back soon.


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